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primaviva · 10 months ago

Text

PUCK YOU

featuring. hockey!ellie williams x fem!reader synopsis. after winning the final game of the season, ellie wants you to join her in celebrating in the locker room. warnings. descriptions of the female body, suggestive content, hardcore making out ( i. e. breast play, grinding, hair pulling…) read at your own discretion

eighty six—the number that defined your girlfriend's prowess on the ice.

it was the number you witnessed gliding effortlessly across the frozen surface, scoring goals with a mighty grip on the hockey stick. it was the number you saw when her frustration reached its peak, her helmet flying across the room, marked unmistakably with that bold eighty six.

and now, as you watched the game unfold, you proudly donned the same number on your back. the vibrant red jersey draped your frame in a comfortably oversized, boyfriend-style fit. originally ellie's, she had lovingly given it to you, fully aware of your affinity for wearing her clothes, with the added sentiment that it’s her team jersey adorning your figure as you cheered her on during games.

in the highly anticipated matchup against the seattle krakens, ellie found herself facing off against her arch-nemesis, abby anderson, who always seemed to harbor an unspoken animosity towards her. perhaps it stemmed from abby's envy of ellie's successes in the industry, or maybe it was fueled by a longing to occupy the same position. whatever the reason, their encounters invariably generated newsworthy headlines.

ellie was well aware of the power of making headlines, understanding that the public loved a good rivalry. the crowd, amused by the tension between ellie and abby, eagerly absorbed every moment of them clashing on the monitors. well, everyone but you. unlike the spectators, you knew the toll it took on ellie. while you delighted in witnessing the furrow of ellie's brows and the intensity in her evergreen gaze, you understood the weight of her anger, knowing how overwhelming those emotions could be for her during gameplay. ellie also just didn’t like getting angry, as she knew how terrible she could get when succumbing to the emotion.

as the game against the seattle krakens reached its exhilarating climax, the scoreboard displayed a tense deadlock. "ellie" and "abby" reverberated through the arena, transforming into a fierce battle of vocal support among the spectators. the names echoed through the crowd, each fan fervently chanting for their favorite player to emerge victorious.

you leaned forward, leaning over the barrier that separated the passionate crowd from the icy battleground. eager to catch a glimpse of the unfolding spectacle, you yearned for a front-row view of the action.

"kick her ass!" your voice rang out, carried by a surge of adrenaline as you fervently waved your hands in the air, willing ellie to triumph with every fiber of your being.

with each stride, ellie's instincts took over. in a swift, fluid motion, ellie seized control of the puck, effortlessly maneuvering past defenders with her unmatched skill. among the sea of opponents, her eyes locked onto abby, her greatest rival, who relentlessly pursued her, driven by a desire to strip ellie of the puck. with precision and agility, ellie danced around abby's relentless advances, her stickwork a symphony of finesse. the crowd watched in awe as the two players engaged in a thrilling duel, but with a burst of speed, your girlfriend left abby in her wake, weaving through the defense.the crowd held their breath, captivated by the scene before them.

the ice seemed to tremble beneath her skates as she closed in on the goal, her heart pounding in her chest. time seemed to stand still as she unleashed a powerful shot, puck sailing through the air and evading the outstretched glove of the goaltender, finding the back of the net. satisfying, it reverberated with a resounding thud as the puck found its mark, securing victory for ellie's team. the arena erupted in a chorus of thunderous cheers, the crowd's jubilation mirroring the euphoria in ellie's own heart.

as the final buzzer echoed through the arena, signaling the end of the intense match, the spectators began to disperse, their cheers fading into the background. ellie along with her team members, elated by their hard-fought victory, eagerly made their way to the locker room to celebrate.

that was the routine of those games. the teams would go to the locker rooms to change out of their gear until they come back out to wait for their bus which left a little later as the coaches made sure the media got some press with the stars of the teams. you would wait for ellie outside of the lockers to greet her with a well deserved kiss and hug before it was time to hit the road.

however, what wasn’t apart of the routine was ellie taking much longer than her teammates, to the point where everyone had left the lockers to go outside and get some fresh air in the dark night sky. usually ellie was eager to get out of her sweaty uniform and lay flat on the floor in relief that it was over, one time she had practically taken her shirt off before leaving the rink.

as you contemplated walking inside, dina, one of ellie's teammates, approached you with a knowing look.

"dina, where's ellie?" you inquired, crossing your arms over your chest as you eagerly awaited her answer.

the raven-head sighed softly, her eyes conveying a sense of understanding to your anxious state. "she's still in the locker room," dina replied, voice laced with empathy. "she needed a moment to calm down. it got pretty intense out there."

your heart skipped a beat as you took in dina's words. you knew all too well how overwhelming emotions could be for ellie, especially in the aftermath of a fiercely contested game like this one. without a second thought, you made your way towards the locker room.

as you entered the dimly lit space, the air was heavy with exhaustion. and there, in the corner, you spotted ellie, her figure slumped on a bench, her equipment scattered haphazardly around her. the sweat glistening on her forehead and the lingering fire in her eyes showed you all you needed to know.

her distant expression revealed a mind lost in deep contemplation, seemingly oblivious to the world around her, including your presence at the doorway.

"ellie," you softly called out, breaking the spell of her introspection.

in an instant, her head snapped up, the fog of her thoughts dissipating as a radiant, toothy smile graced her face. it was the kind of infectious grin that only ellie, with her unique brand of endearing quirkiness, could effortlessly rock. rising from the bench, standing tall as she strode purposefully towards you.

closing the distance between you, ellie enveloped you in her strong arms, lifting you up effortlessly off the ground. her face nestled into the crook of your neck, her warm breath sending gentle shivers down your spine.

the world outside the locker room faded away—as she held you, you could feel the weight of the game lifting from alongside her.

"there you are," she murmured against your neck, her voice muffled but happy nonetheless.

amidst stifled laughter, you attempted to speak. "did you hear me cheering?" you managed to ask.

"how could i not hear you, baby? you were the loudest one out there," ellie retorted, another smile gracing her face. she loved how supportive you always were of her. "thank you for always being there for my games. it means a lot to me, having my beautiful girl cheering me on."

tenderly, she tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, her pale green eyes brimming with warmth and love. on the field, ellie exuded toughness and fierceness, but with you, her armor melted away, revealing a softer, caring side that you brought out in her.

you couldn't help but chuckle at her remark about being the loudest, preferring to describe her as passionate. "you good?" you asked, your gaze fixed on her as your vision readjusted from being taken to the ground. "i know how much it gets to you when abby tries to rile you up during games."

ellie let out a sigh at the mention of abby. "i'm fine, don't worry about her," she replied, her voice laced with frustration, her hand absentmindedly rubbing the back of her neck.

but you could see the tension in her jaw, the way her body seemed to hold onto the irritation caused by abby's actions.

"thanks for checking on me," she expressed, her voice softer now. ellie leaned down, resting her forehead against yours, and released a deep sigh. it felt as if she were fully surrendering her body weight onto you, relying on your support. she was exhausted, both mentally and physically.

you weren’t buying tickets to her act.

as you studied her face, you noticed her tightly shut eyes and the creases forming around them. "i find it hard to believe you're okay. you look exhausted. sit," you firmly stated, placing your hands on her shoulders and gently guiding her back down onto the bench, encouraging her to rest.

ellie sighed and didn't resist as you made her sit back down on the bench. as tough as she was, she knew better than to argue with you when you used that tone.

"you know me too well,” ellie noted as she relaxed her shoulders and leaned back, closing her eyes. you always seemed to see right through her facade of being fine. the game had taken more out of her than she cared to admit.

you sat there, quietly observing her presence. the sheen of sweat adorned her forehead, causing strands of stray hair to cling to the sides. her skin appeared moist, a clear indication that she had recently stepped off the rink. your eyes remained fixed on her, capturing the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each inhale and exhale, a rhythmic cadence that grew slower and more deliberate. as you watched, your mind couldn't help but wander, envisioning the strength and definition of her abs concealed beneath her jersey. surely, the intensity of her performance left her core muscles taut and sculpted.

"will you sit with me for a bit?" she questioned, opening one eye to look at you hopefully. ellie just wanted a few quiet moments with you before the crowds dispersed. your presence alone seemed to ease her fatigue.

you nodded silently, a wordless affirmation of your unwavering support, before settling down beside her. her eyes attentively followed your every movement, capturing each subtle motion as you took your place next to her. she kept her gaze fixed on you, her emerald eyes shimmering in the softly lit room, as if trying to memorize every detail before finally closing them, her head finding solace against the wall.

"i really do appreciate you," she spoke amongst the silence. reaching for your hand, she brought it to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss upon it.

ellie, the dominant force on the field, always had a calm vulnerability in your presence. you provided the equilibrium she needed, a balance that no one else could offer.

you couldn't help but giggle at the sensations elicited by her tender kiss on your hand. "don't thank me," you playfully responded, a mischievous glimmer in your eyes. "come on, let me help you get undressed." as you rose from your seat, you noticed a devilish smirk on her face. "i didn't mean it like that, so don't even think about it," you emphasized, walking between her open legs as she sat, firmly grasping the bottom of her jersey.

she teasingly placed her hands behind your thighs, as if mockingly trying to keep you in place, before finally relenting and allowing you to proceed with removing her from her sweaty uniform.

"you know i can’t help myself around you," ellie playfully remarked, punctuating her words with a wink. however, as you tended to her, ellie surrendered herself to your caring touch, feeling the tightness in her muscles melt away.

she raised her arms, a silent invitation for you to remove her jersey. with gentle and skillful movements, you carefully pulled the fabric over her head, revealing the glistening sheen of perspiration on her skin. moving on, you deftly unfastened her shoulder pads, followed by her elbow pads. the expression on her face spoke volumes, a mixture of relief and gratitude as the weight of the protective gear was lifted from her.

ellie grinned up at you, thoroughly enjoying teasing you even when exhausted. you were just so cute when you got flustered. but she resisted making any other suggestive comments as you helped remove her pads and gear. she could tell you were going into protective girlfriend mode to take care of her.

as the last piece came off, ellie sighed in relief. "god, that’s so much better, thank you. i feel lighter already." she pulled you closer between her legs so your bodies were pressed together, though mindful not to squeeze you too tightly in her tired state. the tension began to ease from her muscles.

you just had that calming presence which soothed ellie's nerves. just being close to you helped her unwind after the stress of competition. she leaned back and closed her eyes contentedly.

"come here," ellie beckoned, extending her arm towards you, her desire for your closeness evident. "i just want to hold my girl before having to sit through a three-hour bus ride," she joked, a bit of truth in her statement.

with hesitation and curiosity, you placed your hand in hers, uncertain of what she had in mind. but before you could fully anticipate her next move, ellie swiftly pulled you into her lap, enveloping you in her embrace.

the suddenness of the action surprised you, but as you settled into her lap, you felt a wave of warmth and security wash over you. nestled against her, you could hear the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

ellie wrapped her strong arms securely around your waist as you settled into her lap. she rested her chin on your shoulder and breathed you in deeply.

"mmm, there's my girl,” she whispered. holding you always made ellie feel centered. like the rest of the world faded away and it was just the two of you. she nuzzled softly against your neck, placing gentle kisses along your skin. "i love you so much," she spoke while holding you tighter, hoping you knew how much you meant to her.

ellie's tired muscles relaxed further as she embraced you. your presence alone seemed to ease the strain from her body. she rocked you gently in her arms, enjoying this quiet moment of intimacy.

"i love you too," you whispered in response, your words filled with nothing less of love. ellie's gaze locked onto yours, her pupils dilating as she immersed herself in the depths of your eyes. in that intimate exchange, she sought to discover every shade, every intricate detail that made your eyes uniquely yours.

her hand, which had secured your waist, embarked on a slow and agonizing path up your back, sending a tantalizing shiver along your spine. it finally settled at the nape of your neck, her touch both gentle and possessive. with a firm grasp, she guided your head towards hers, closing the distance between your lips.

ellie kissed you softly yet deeply, savoring the feeling of your lips against hers. all the anxiety and frustration from the game seemed to melt away in your affectionate embrace.

she gently traced her tongue along your bottom lip, asking for entrance in a way that was loving yet dominant. her hand cradled the back of your head tenderly even as she pulled you in closer.

kissing you always made ellie feel possessive yet protective at the same time. like she never wanted to let you go. she loved you so fiercely it sometimes scared her. but she knew you were the only one who truly saw her for who she was—not just an athlete but a person.

as your lips moved in perfect harmony, a sensuous dance of desire, you became lost in the intoxicating rhythm. the magnetic pull between you seemed irresistible, drawing you into a world where nothing else mattered but her body. the wetness of her mouth and the mingling of saliva heightened the intensity, an unspoken language shared between you both.

when you reluctantly parted to catch your breath, a thin strand of saliva lingered, connecting you both momentarily. ellie leaned her forehead against yours, her breaths heavy and labored. her pale green eyes bore into yours, radiating warmth and unbridled desire. “i need you,” she expressed with a raw simplicity, her voice husky and filled with need. in your embrace, ellie found solace, the only place where true tranquility resided.

ellie craved an outlet, a means to divert her frustrations and escape the overwhelming demands of the game. and in that moment, there was no better distraction than being consumed by thoughts of you, her mind freed from pucks and goalies.

with a swift gesture, she wiped away the saliva from her chin before firmly gripping your jaw, drawing your lips back to hers. the kiss intensified, akin to the crashing of rough waves against a sailor's vessel. each crash left an imprint, and you could sense the tender fullness of your lips bruising under the passionate onslaught.

a deep, resonant moan escaped your throat, merging with the union of your mouths. your hands found purchase on her shoulders as you adjusted yourself, straddling her waist with a sense of urgency.

ellie growled low in her throat at your moan, arousal spiking through her body in an instant. she gripped your hips tighter, grinding you against her as your movements stirred her growing need.

kissing you deeper, ellie dominated your mouth with her tongue, possessing you completely. one hand slid up your back, fingers clutching possessively. the other tangled in your hair to hold you right where she wanted.

she kissed like she played—with a fiery intensity and competitive drive to claim victory. ellie poured all her pent up passion and longing into the kiss, asserting her dominance yet caring for you completely.

when you finally broke apart again, panting heavily, ellie gazed at you with lust-darkened eyes. "fuck, baby, you're so hot,” she groaned, nipping along your jaw and down your neck, leaving her mark.

ellie was throbbing with want, craving the intimate release only you could give her after a game.

"ellie, did you forget we're in the locker room?" you began to protest, but ellie's touch interrupted your words, cupping your clothed boobs and giving them a slow yet tender squeeze. you hated how flustered she got you, especially when there were other people around. “cut the shit," you pleaded, but deep down, you knew that you were just as eager to help ellie find release from her stress.

ellie chuckled low in her throat at how easily she could rile you up. your flushed cheeks and dilated pupils told her exactly how turned on you were despite your words.

with a mischievous grin, ellie met your plea while giving your breasts another b squeeze. "aw, come on, baby, don't pretend you don't love it when i get you all hot and bothered," she teased, her voice low and seductive.

ellie lived for the challenge of pushing your buttons and claiming your body as her own, even with others so close. the thrill of potentially getting caught only served to heighten her arousal.

she leaned in to nibble your earlobe sensually, "bet i can make you cum before we even leave this room." ellie's hand slid down your stomach to cup your clit through your jeans.

"what do you say? want to put on a little after show for me?" she gripped your ass firmly with her other hand, grinding you down against her. ellie knew all your secrets and weaknesses, and was more than willing to exploit them.

you couldn't help but mumble, "fuck," as your hands gripped on her hair. you moved in for another kiss without thinking twice as you were too needy to keep her mouth to yourself.

ellie kissed you hungrily, all her earlier arousal igniting into an inferno. she moaned against your mouth at the feel of your hands gripping her hair firmly. oh, how the girl loved it when you took charge and matched her dominance with your own.

it was as if she was starving for you, devouring your mouth possessively. she grounded up against your core, feeling how wet you were already through your jeans. ellie delighted in unraveling your composure and leaving you a panting, wanting mess.

her hands roamed your body possessively, gripping your ass to grind you down harder. ellie sucked your bottom lip between her teeth, nipping teasingly. she wanted you aching and desperate for her. your girlfriend loved how responsive your body was to her touch, how you melted under her.

breaking the kiss momentarily, ellie gazed up at you with eyes dark with lust. "god, you're so fucking hot. think anyone would notice if i made you come right here?"

she traced delicate patterns on your warm skin, teasing ever closer to your core. ellie lived to unravel you, reduce you to a flushed, quivering mess before claiming your pleasure as her own. she rolled her hips up in a slow, deep circle, applying delicious friction directly against your clit now. ellie was determined to push you over the edge before letting you leave this locker room.

ellie groaned at your nails scraping across her scalp, spurring her desire higher. she kissed you back fervently, delving her tongue between your lips to tangle with your own.

your desperate little noises only served to spur her on. ellie was going to thoroughly ravish you right here, right now, and to hell with anyone who might catch them. you were hers.

"you're gonna make a mess of your uniform," you managed to gasp out, your words challenged by hushed breaths and the rapid beating of your heart. in the grand scheme of things, her uniform should have been the least of your concerns, but your mind was clouded, rendering you unable to think clearly.

ellie chuckled low in her throat as you panted and squirmed in her lap. you were always so cute when she had you this worked up.

"that's what the showers are for, baby." she rolled her hips up in another slow, deep grind against your clit. ellie nibbled along your neck hungrily, branding you with love bites. "don't care about the uniform, i just want you,” she declared while kissing you hard, refusing to break eye contact as her hand slid under your low waisted jeans.

ellie knew exactly how to unravel you, where to touch to draw out your pleasure. she could feel your arousal soaking through your underwear as you ground yourself down against her hand. your girlfriend swallowed your soft moans, owning your mouth completely as your hips began to ride her expert fingers.

her hands slid under the famous eighty six jersey she lent you to caress and squeeze your breasts skin on skin. ellie tweaked your nipples between her fingertips, rubbing them into stiff peaks.

"bet you’re close already," ellie muttered. she kissed you fiercely, tongue plunging into your mouth in time with her grinding hips.

ellie was throbbing with her own needs but lived for your pleasure above her own. she would push you over the edge a thousand times just to see your blissful expression.

the hockey player took such pride and satisfaction in reducing you to a quivering mess so quickly. and she hadn't even fucked you properly yet. by the time she was through, you'd be putty in her hands.

she smirked, loving how close she had you already. you began subconsciously grinding yourself on her through, back and forth as you sucked her tongue in your mouth. your moans of pleasure were like music to her ears.

"that's it baby, ride my thigh. feel how wet you're making me?" she continued to talk you through, emphasizing her words by grinding up against your core once more.

ellie captivated your lips in another searing kiss, swallowing your cries of ecstasy. her hands gripped your ass possessively, helping lift and lower your hips.

“ellie,” you mumbled, the intensity of the moment consuming you, as rational thoughts and the ability to express them struggled to break through the haze of desire.

the brunette's head quipped up as soon as she saw your beautiful visage. it was one of her favorite things to do at these times, to simply observe the obscene looks on your face that she made herself, tight with pleasure.

ellie took such pride and satisfaction in reducing you to a quivering mess so quickly. and she hadn't even fucked you properly yet. by the time she was through, you'd be putty in her hands.

“yeah? if you have something to say, you gotta use your words (y/n). so if you want it, then tell me you want to cum all over my hand while i fuck you right here,” ellie taunted, now nipping at your bottom lip, her husky voice dripping dominance and desire.

the words that escaped her lips left you stunned, rendering you momentarily speechless. your eyes watched her intently as she adjusted her stance against the wall. her every movement seemed deliberate, commanding your attention.

with trembling hands, you reached out to steady yourself against a nearby surface, the weight of her words sinking in as you opted for the wall behind ellie. as she moved her arm once more, your gaze followed. her strong fingers dipped past the fabric to tease your entrance eagerly. "come on baby, don't leave me hanging,” ellie ordered gruffly, knowing the sound of her voice could send you over the edge.

she held you flush against her body, grinding up to meet your every roll of hips. you swallowed each other's moans with deep kisses, tongues tangling erotically. ellie was determined to push you over the edge right here in this very locker room.

all of a sudden, a disruptive knocking sound echoed through the locker room door, shattering the fragile bubble of intimacy that had enveloped you both. a voice, belonging to joel, ellie's hockey coach, seeped through the other side, brimming with impatience.

"ellie, hurry up! the bus is outside, and our asses will leave you here to hitchhike if you don't come out in the next five minutes," joel's voice boomed, giving his last warning to your girlfriend.

you exchanged a knowing glance, the disappointment and longing apparent in your eyes. ellie growled in frustration as joel's voice interrupted your intense moment. of course, right when she was finally forgetting her problems, the problem came knocking on the door.

"shit," she muttered under her breath. ellie rested her forehead against yours as you both panted from being out of breath, the rhythm of your heartbeats gradually slowing, but the desire within you remaining unquenched.

"we're not done here," ellie whispered huskily, giving your ass a possessive squeeze.

louder so joel could hear, she called out, "yeah yeah, we're coming!" you tried not to laugh, but ellie giggled to herself, a sly smile on her face at the double meaning which caused you to roll your eyes.

ellie's lips pressed against yours for one final, ravenous kiss, a bittersweet taste that left you yearning for more. "we’re gonna finish this later, i promise,” she declared in a hushed tone, fueling what already thrummed between you.

with a playful slap on your ass whilst she got off the bench, ellie teased you, her touch electric against your skin. time was of the essence as you swiftly assisted her in changing out of her hockey gear and into more comfortable clothes.

the weight of disappointment settled upon both of you, and with mutual understanding, you tenderly brushed each other's disheveled hair back into place. gently, you attempted to wipe the sweat from each other's faces, trying to look as unsuspecting as possible. Not to mention, it was also severely embarrassing.

leaving the confines of the locker room, you stepped outside and joined ellie's teammates on the bus. taking your places among them, you immersed yourself in the multiple topics that would usually take place, ranging from animated discussions about the game to reflections on personal improvement and snippets of their everyday lives. or, they simply just talked shit about the other team and how stupid their name was—it could even go as far as saying how ugly and mismatched the team colors would be.

ellie knew you'd be aching for her touch until then. it would be a long, frustrating bus ride for both of you back to jackson. but the anticipation would make the payoff so much sweeter.

she knew she would get her after-game reward.

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notmuchtoconceal · 11 months ago

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A Better Carpentermass (Maybe!) ;-- [Prelude the Second, but First]

You met Joey’s mother.

She was exactly the sort of person you expected Joey’s mother to be.

[introducing Mdme. Rolanda Schreibermachen]

(don't save

here

we don't wanna be

saved

don't save

here)

- Vicomte, you’ve met Joseph, my son. He’s an Eagle Marine, you know. Rumor has it he might soon be ascending into a rank even more cutthroat, decorated and obscure.

- A pleasure, Vicomte. I make an earnest living beating people who look different from me to death with a club. In my spare time, I jot some.

- My most gallant son, Vicomte. So willing to tarnish himself to tarnish the radiant and purifying overflow of his wellspring.

- A pearl could not congeal in a clamshell more fetid, mother.

- You are so good at what you do, Joseph. Your stickwork breaks at the boundaries of the phenomenological. I’ve had experts radio-annotate your psycho-cardiograms, and could demonstrate as much quantifiably. It’s good and manly that you’re so eager to play to your strengths -- and yes, that does feign you club a few invaders into giblets now and then -- as though that ought trouble your severe and studiously marbled brow. There are boys born to less who would be eager for a chance to keep their mothers safe and out of harm's way --

- I wonder if mother finds herself in harm’s way more than harm’s way finds itself in mother.

- My handsome son. So clean and broad in his uniform. -- put your chest out, dear. Make these cretins admire mother’s handiwork.

You had to admit, Joey looked good in his uniform. Particularly when his mother was watching. The helplessness beneath the heroism of his features, that which pulled him tight made his jaw clench with false valor.

Standing tall, his mother would wrap her arm around the mound of his bicep. His warmly creaking leather-clad bicep. It drew your attention to his warmth. The way it trapped heat, trapped flavor.

You wanted to get him outta here. Tear into him like a overripe rind.

You wanted to bite down on the striations of his head -- stringmeat the head where his mother had touched him -- mulch the fiber into chew to inoculate against what saplings she may have lain.

- How is that young Lt. Psychorrhax? Are you still squiring him?

- Cpt. Psychorrhax has been standing next to us for the past fifteen minutes, mother.

- Good evening, Mrs. Schreibermachen. I hope you’ve been well. Joe tells me you’ve been spending your evenings with a Francophone phyto-farmer as of late? Hear they really know how to let things stew.

- Oh, is he of equal rank with you now, Joseph? He seems to dote on you with a feverish alacrity typically typical of a subordinate.

- It’s simply in his character, mother. I’ve come to realize I enjoy spending time with people who, on occasion, can display at least the inklings of some capacity for transparency and warmth.

(Know your inklings like you know your jottings, Joe!)

- You’ve always been so affectionate, Joseph -- of course, you could have only gotten that from me. When I was your age, I myself was somewhat infamous for the affection I was known to squander on my subordinates. Then again, I always was a card, you know.

- A turn-one trap. Being still my age, I’m somewhat infamous for the frank manner with which I'm known to regard my equals.

- You are taken, aren’t you, Lt.? With my son’s imagination, if not his wit?

- Madame, I am aware that you have some small service experience yourself with the Sisters of All-Enveloping Mercy, for I would have sense enough to blanche at so forward an abnegation of a fellow citizen’s record. Under Cpt. Schreibermachen’s tutelage --

- Hands’ on.

- I attained the rank of Cpt. as a Corpsman of the Eagle Marines a paltry year and a half after he did so himself, despite being nearly three years his junior. While I’m certainly no stranger to accusations of nepotism, I have trouble believing that a woman of your manner could find this anymore troubling than Cpt. Schreibermachen’s intermittent remorse over pre-engaged calculations in cold-blooded murder.

She took a sip – and perched as though a cockatiel in a cage.

On rare occasions, you'd feel a compulsion to pat Cpt. Psychorrhax on the head when he would deliver a novel phrase.

At this moment, you were shocked to find yourself resisting a side-hug.

- Well Cpt. it seems you have studied my son well -- not that I blame you for coveting such a splendid edifice.

(la la la la la la la la

lai lai lai lai)

It was hard sometimes. To be hungry in public.

- Did you hear a squealing, Joseph? A low, almost honey-like -- not quite a buzzing.... is it a boiling perhaps?

- Perhaps someone has left the tea on. I would have liked to have someone to fetch me some lemon, but as you've chased away my most cherished compatriot in love and war and were it not for the major we would be left all alone -- I have none to attend to me, for I am sure he is far above taking orders from either of us, mother.

- Joseph, must you exposit so floridly?

- Mother, must you deposit so horridly?

You couldn't abandon him. The battles they waged in insulation and affectation degenerated before your eyes into couplets.

You wouldn't be any good to him on an empty stomach.

- Oh, mother is that -- ?

You grabbed him by the shoulders. His shoulders were stiff beneath his leather. You wanted to keep grabbing him. You wanted to tear his leather down and see his body. His body was your little brother's body.

- It is! Mother, an absolute casing. You'll love this one. Cpt. Jacek Psychorrhagia -- I hope you can keep up -- this carousel of gussied up beasts in their gilded saddles. He's the meathead meat magnate who cored out the heads of the mob at stockyard pier fairgrounds. He might not have yet attained the major's stature, but he doubtlessly resembles him most in his flint-carven manner. Cpt. Psychorrhagia, my mother.

Out of the enthusiasm Joey affected during presentation, he backhanded Jacek so hard against the chest, everything from his shoulder girdle up lunged forward as he parted his lips as though to gasp.

No sound echoed forth from his throat. His eyes never left the vision.

- m i l f

Mdme. Schreibermachen fell through brine portals to the Baltics.

... m e a t

(- Oh, what a precious wooden boy! A regular black tar pine!)

She lingered. Corroded and dim. In a hardness she seldom knew.

... you sound so much like Laika in his absence, it makes me sick. It might even excite you, I suppose.

Joey's palm -- flung around Jacek's shoulder for he had drawn him close, he now realized -- compressed with its expanse the hydra cap of his opposing deltoid as he would the knob of a banister clung-midfall. One of his legs crossed the other in a spasm which halted to a dance, for he pressed half-wittingly into Jacek. Brushing the left partition of his abdominal wall to Jacek's right as his head slid away at the last moment so that only the swoop of his undercut met his pompadour.

Lemongrass and stallion tail. Brushing one another as the vertical sutures of their skulls slid into a contrary rotation which became a caress -- bound plate to plate -- revealing by their proximity the deep yellows which verged on gold; the inky blacks which radiated blue.

- :-- and you get to be me as I get to be he! Perhaps if I offer myself to you on an altar you will consent to our already most perfect union? Do not make me soil myself sea to shining sea ewe auntie. I am a gentleman, a scholar, a warrior and a king, and I will not lower myself to raising out well-flowered trees for moth-eaten greens!

She gave him -- rather expectedly, it would seem -- the look of a woman well-versed in showing how one might get exactly what she wants.

- Is this how he communes with you in private, Joseph? He does himself well to hold to his references, doesn't he?

Joey -- the crunch in Jacek's shoulder now tapering away -- had the look of an old-timer too smart to fall for such an obvious ruse.

- Sometimes, mother... you can make me feel so foolish. These are the few and precious moments I cherish you.

You could only stick around until the intermission.

Beyond the lights of the trees -- the palms between the shoeman trees, those phalanx structures welded from broken lattice and corded wire, bearing from its old contouring new channels, new circuits, as scrap heaped up from the seafloor spun and burnished into an ore of kelp; a patina baked to emerald, fossilized algae budding into veins of quarts -- you moved for you needed to be, were now not somewhere here.

There were kitchens beyond kitchens. Places down these halls where no staff did venture, save to shirk the responsibility of service.

The chill of the morgue washed over you.

A John Doe stripped of his uniform reclined on the third of the seven slabs. The brickwork of the ovens rimmed in surgical steel. Splayed out with the green of the seagrass-woven sheet, you pulled down past his v-taper. You looked into his eyes. Could still see the moment of death. The terror. The awe. What haunted him lost on the tide of those inland seas.

Veiled in wax. This sacrament we took, we have given of the protectors we knew homegrown. Grade A Beef. The one true white meat. His pale skin. Speckled as an egg. Hard to seat. On this, we cut our teeth.

You grabbed his wrist. You put one hand on his elbow. You brought the juicy steroid-swollen meat to your lips. Your jaw ajar beckoned drippings. The cotton you kept clean pressed forth in splotch. The doors were locked. There was nobody watching. Only you watched yourself.

You could smell his skin. The smell of his skin which invites your teeth. The tips of the points press down with a force that stretches time. You press and the skin does not break, but still you whir in your cranial refuse bin, sputtering compactor without clearance -- vibrating by sickness and by freeze until the jitterings cleave still teeth to carve autonomous -- when the blood comes. Your guts sputter divinity unto the sick.

The sweet tang of the iron.

The head-rush was coming. One drop. One drop.

Your bellow came silenced by a cleavage of palm.

You were biting your own hand. On the webbing between your thumb and forefinger. Crunching the leather. Tasting it.

Tearing. One drop was never enough.

The impulse to total failure rose up in you and crested like a landbreaker.

You stood in the chills, drenched and stationary.

It would have to go slow. You would need to do things cleanly.

Surgically.

You crack the John Doe's elbow and chew your way through the gristle. You keep your eyes closed. The sour notes of how he'd settled and thickened make you retch. Your teeth tear through to the other side with the spontaneous precision of lifelong practice.

You bag the arm. Turning to leave, you catch yourself in a sheet of chromium wall plating and wipe the mess from your face with the blue and white fleur de lys handkerchief in your right pocket.

The incinerator isn't far. You can skewer the arm, roast it in the exhaust for the spice of cobalt and smoke.

It had taken you less than a week to commit to memory the correct variables of distance and distribution to evenly sear the arm of adult male over the provided heat vent. This is the only way it could be when you were within the city walls. To mask the lack of freshness and the headiness of the bloodlust, the meat needed to be blackened.

It was so good.

You shed your gloves. You tear into it. Your tongue takes you away from your eyes. Guided by appetite in the glide of your eyes.

The charcoalized crust of the toplayer containing all the notes of civility. The flesh fibrous and woody lower down numbs you to the reality of the meat until you can bring yourself to accept the texture.

Then it hits you.

The cascade of flavors exploding in your mouth as you chew closer to the bone. The softer flesh around the bone. Before you realize it, you're tearing off strings of bitemarks, biting over canyons already formed where the femur tore when your mouth would wrestle your hands.

If you weren't such a pussy, you coulda had more.

Less heat. More juice.

The more you had, the more you'd want. If you didn't ruin it, you'd keep doing it. If you kept doing it, there'd be no hiding it. It was better to wait. Better to wait until there was another war. Then it wouldn't matter. They wouldn't ask questions. Men do terrible things when they're at war.

You wiped the blood from your face and left the handkerchief stained, folded neatly back in your pocket, bloodside out.

You reached for his shoulder. It crunched beneath your hand.

You were back at the gala night. You were tapping out Cpt. Jacek. His eyes lingered in you briefly longer than you knew.

You couldn't have been gone more than ten minutes.

- This strapping gentleman of yours, oh -- it’s so difficult to keep his attention, Joseph.

- The major, though a judicious administrator and a brutal warrior, is not a man taken to drink, or the intimacy of gatherings, or the company of women. There may be some connection, our experts now claim.

(Daily, I struggle to comprehend the evident facts I am quick to report.)

- It would please your mother to have a dance with him.

- It would not please him to have a dance with mother.

- You would not broach the topic? Even with a brute as decorated as he?

- I would not broach the topic -- even with a harpy as cake as you.

- Careful, Joseph. You strip the polish from your talons when your clawings become too eager.

- A sporting chance, mother. I am so terribly fond of you.

- Your friend simply looks as though he could use a mother’s love. It seems to me as though there are a quite a few wayward boys around here who could do with a mother’s love.

- This may come as a shock to you mother, but some boys have been known to display personal preference and even a point of view!

- Joseph, you've never had any qualm about making your point of view as clear as you would to anyone who could bare to listen.

- For the gifts of my status and my valor, I pledged myself to the people of this nation. For the gifts of my inquisitiveness and my individuality, that which nourishes the gaslight of my valor, I pledged myself to the sublime order of the unseen and higher truths, that whi --

- Does my son ever exhaust you with his soliloquy, major? I understand he holds you in higher esteem than most, though he is known to possess a terrible penchant for flattery. Certainly, a man of your worldliness ought know it’s a waste of his efforts to pursue dramaturgical fads when a man of his station is more than capable of finding a pair-breeder.

- She yearns for a grandson when she needs but another kitten, sir.

- Or else ought consider pledging himself to a man worth the weight of the hide on his back. You yourself may have a candidate in mind.

- She contemplates spiritedly the time we spend alone, sir. I suspect it might please her if working within the official channels, we could attain a duplicate of some past disciplinary viewing, so she may in the privacy of her own suite cherish and discriminate herself before the aching contortions and needy whimperings of my no longer juvenile body -- and thereby come to more fully prostrate herself in tyrannical identification with you, to regain some lost sense of a time I had been truly helpless -- amplified by the fantasy of your yoking frame, my own more fully robust in maturity, while behind my eyes -- in ancient wounds -- I regress to those boyhood agonies she found most gave her purpose, shackled to the hideous contortions of her wretched uterine wailing.

Silence.

The persistence of all which is noble and true.

- You’ve always been so terribly unhappy. There are times where I find your flippant manner absolutely insufferable -- For what do you want, Joseph? You are bold. You are quick. You are capricious. You are adored. You have been blessed by the stars, blessed by the winds, blessed by the gods --to say nothing of my good humor. Is it simply your insistence on moving in eccentric circles that makes you, in spite of the airtight seal which I labored to hold over my wedlock, such a vicious bastard?

- From where does her moisture emanate most fiercely, major?

- In spite of all I’ve done to depart you with a sunny disposition.

- Mother, I am the sun incarnate. You simply cannot stand the heat.

(barb barb barb)

- Mother, look.

<<<

... It’s one of my most cherished compatriots.

>>>

... Brux -- Brux old boy!

- Joey, I didn’t know you knew my name!

- Mother, may I introduce --

(like he needs another one!)

... Cpt. Bruxer Haruspex -- he’s a transplant from …

- Rueland, Madame. Of Her Majesty’s San Navy. The pleasure is mine.

- I’m almost certain.

- Cpt. Haruspex and the major have more history together than even Cpt. Psychorrhax and I.

- He must be judicious as you say Joseph, if he can keep his subordinates where they belong.

- Judicious, juracious and executious, mum. I can tell ya stories about the big man that’d keep ya up all night -- though two quick thinkers like us ... sure we could find some way to pass the time!

- Do my eyes deceive me, or do I detect a hint of bashfulness in the corner of that chiseled glower, major?

- Keen, mum. You’ll never find a more humble man. Not once has the craving for recognition ever sullied the major’s noble deductions.

- You appear to be causing him some distress, Cpt. I can’t imagine why! A man of your stature, major... and your accomplishments -- why there’s so much to which you are rightly owed!

- That’s the beauty of it, mum. He thinks truly nothin of it. His every thought is given to the pursuit of fortifyin the bodies, minds and spirits of his countrymen. So deep is his identification with those he needs to defend, the resulting tunnel vision has produced titanic spectacles as likely to warm your heart as rip it out and devour it raw!

- Perhaps you yourself, major – would care to regale us with a tale of your heroism?

- Clever and beautiful, mum. Tight as a clam, this one! Few years back, Joey got it in his head he’d be the one to profile the major for the reels. Anythin he hadn’t witnessed with his own two eyes, he got from me!

Joey now stepping in -- realized he could at last step out.

- That’s the crux of Brux’s charm, mother! He has the rare predilection to be friendly even with those others may find abhorrent.

Brux had somehow maneuvered himself into taking her hand.

- Never in my life would I think to blanche at a mother’s love, Mdme. Schreibermachen.

Joey might not have looked dehydrated. He sure sounded it.

- I don’t know about either of you, but I’m absolutely parched.

- Joey, you don’t drink at military functions.

- He gets absolutely misted at the cultural ones!

- I always seem to run into you at them mother, and it’s always cause for celebration that you would be so kind as to value my work.

… please, excuse me. Father has cornered Laika at the punch bowl.

(

[gavel of a shotglass against the countertop]

- One of these days, Psychorrhax.

one of these days, Joe!

... I’ll tear that sow’s belly open from this side, too!

- Hey. Joey. Ya chewed her out. Ya spit her up. Ya left her for the dogs.

wild animals trawling over her bones in a field!

-- Bud. Tonight. Tonight I'm gonna get ya so shitfaced...

... Bro. Man. Gonna hafta towel yer face off with my ass.

)

It couldn't last.

You were back in the morgue the minute they parted.

You were burying your face in another arm. Maybe it was the same arm. You told yourself you wouldn't eat up to the elbow -- by the time you got there, you stood more informed by the blackout than the present. Eyes in the meat you ripped open, wondering if it would be worth it to commit to the hacksaw -- or let people think it was some wild animal.

Somewhere far away. By candlelight the perfumes masked the filth.

- Come on, mum. You still thinkin bout Joey?

- I was only one woman, Cpt. Haruspex. I knew my son was different. I knew. I knew that he would be a burden. I knew. I wouldn’t say it wasn't a bother. I was proud. I love him… More than words can say, I love him, that loveless word. I wanted to give him everything. I wish I could have given him my want. I can’t. I did’t know… what do you do, Cpt.? What do you do when seized by a love so intense, it separates the wheat from the chaff of you who find yourself more filling than flour? When you see someone in the gauze of that totalizing love -- you can’t move -- as though cryogenic time had suspended you in some aquifer which once had been the sky. He shines in the golden rows, shirtless and studded diamond clean in the white heat -- between heaven and earth, and there is no you or him, for he is you and love is him. It’s as though waking from a dream from which you feared you would one day awake -- as though when you can move and hold this boy who is your everything, the vision of love becomes only a memory, and for a moment that vision of him, in his utter perfection, imprints on you, and you are aware of all that you could do -- and that you are merely you. Revealed in all your wretched limitation, the bitter tang of alienage, for you cannot bring forth what barren soil you are. You hold him close and cannot speak. You want to hold him, though could never hold him close enough... I have malformed my son with the crudity of my imperfect form. I have marred him as one vain error begat another vain error, and in my growing stressors, I could not self-correct. I could never give him enough. I could no more manifest my vision for him than I could my vision for myself... and I could not bring myself to treasure this creature which my error had sculpted.

Brux kissed her thrice. On both cheeks and on the forehead.

- Mum, come on. Joey’s a douchebag. You raised him to be a douchebag. It’d break your heart if he wasn’t a douchebag.

To her lips he moved, but swerve she did.

To his fingers he kissed, and her nose he booped.

The teardrop goblets rose to palm her eyes.

- Don’t make light of me, Cpt. Haruspex. Already, I feel my composure beginning to slip away.

- The way I’m talkin to you right now? You hear this? The way I’m attentive to your needs, and care about your feelins? Picture Joey doin this. Really picture it. See? See? You don’t want that, mum. You can only tolerate it from me, cause ya hold in me in such low-esteem, but y’know -- the lowness of my esteem’s what got me here. Really, it’s jus effective as hell. Dick feels good up yer cunt. Cunt feels good squishin mah dick. I could tickle ya like this [tra la la la la] there’s my girl. There’s her happy face. Come on, mum. Ya just like to make yourself feel bad! Ya gotta make up all this shit -- Joey’s not manly cause he writes inscrutable wooey smut nobody wants to read. Brux is a toothy lil dirt devil who eats food off the floor. No man's ever gonna be perfect enough, blah blah -- and for what? Mum. It’s just way more fun to give in when you’re alone and ashamed! Where’s the fun of it if ya recognize right away that I’m gonna be a swell guy who shows ya a real good fuck? What’s the fun of it if ya don’t alienate Joey most of his life for not wantin to be your full-time kill-bot puppy-boy? For hundreds of years, mum! It was in vogue for soldiers to write letters to their girls. They kept em framed. They became cherished heirlooms. Mum, you would always bare a martial son, but would you weep if you read his letters? Would you pine for his company, set a place for him at the table, lounge around in wistful melancholy, dreamin of how ya would hold him when he came back from the war, boquet of roses in hand, his eyes so warm and open, as he said, with all sincerity, that you were the only woman he could ever truly love?

…

… kinda makes ya sick, don’t it? Gosh, Joey’s just so beautiful when he’s distant! You feel so in awe of him the way he looks at you in -- not even like a sneer, really. Almost like he’s confused. Like there’s a part of him that’s strugglin to fathom ya even got complex human emotions.

- I suppose, Cpt. Haruspex -- that if I can admit to admiring your insight, it would do me well to admit to admiring my own son’s.

.\ --. ( o ) .-- /.

It wasn't a bad night.

You didn't let em catch on as to the nature of your important work.

Jacek's broad body – the straps of the cotton clinging to his contours, a luster of oils playing through fibrous translucency – heavy, knitted -- stretched on his bulk bronzed Mediterranean beading with sweat.

...–.../ ( o ) \...-...

Cpt. Schreibermachen took his hand.

Psychorrhax had been somewhere else.

He didn't have to move his lips.

He could hear, from the faint upward tug of the left corner -- as warm down his spine as the lion's mane on which they lay before the fire -- the echo through his memory, of the words matched to his face

;-- Laika.

Cpt. Psychorrhax seemed to stumble as he stepped out of his own gaze.

As a long traveler returning home, he grew weak stepping into Cpt. Schreibermachen's arms.

- Thought you were mad at me, Joe.

- Why would you think something... like that, Laik?

- I just thought...

- Your thoughts reach far, as eyes along a sea to glimpse some distant shore.

- I don't know what to do sometimes... when I think you're mad at me.

- Shall I join you along the bank, or meet you in the surf?

- Sir... Cpt. Schreibermachen... haha, Joey, you fuck let go!

- What is mine, I take care of -- rage depleted of direction is a torrent of perpetual splashings ill-suited to the vigor of the organism.

- Sir, please sir, I --

Next thing Laika knew, Joey's shoulder was tucked under his chin. The expression on his face reminded you of postcards of Laurentian ad copy for ultraviolent-resistant unguents -- of children playing with plastic crab buckets, building temporal reinforcements of cones against the tide.

Cpt. Hlaford observed.

Plucking strips of dehydrated beef grain from his tin.

- It is a beautiful thing, Wally -- (he spoke to himself, aloud) when two men share passion as to become what neither is alone. What is alone is only incomplete by the dictates of an external paradigm. What is singular needs nothing extraneous, as what is added to the singular can accrue only additional context, and so becomes merely annotation. The transformation then is only in the eyes of the beholder -- the equivalent of casting a flurry of spotlights around the perimeter of a black hole, to lumine only the darkness around that which eats the light.

At some point in their new imbroglio, Cpt. Psychorrhax detached from Cpt. Schreibermachen and his eyes drited over to Cpt. Hlaford.

- Wally, would you care to join us?

Wally moved a strip to mouth -- with route precision.

- Thank you, Laika. It is my deepest regret to inform you that I am already expected for a lively evening at home.

Joey pulled a pen from his pocket. To his lips, he pantomimed the mic.

- Cpt. Hlaford, you find yourself without pretension among those who're flattered by their pretensions -- to what do you owe your astute refinement of the crude of others into a fossil premium fittest to burn?

To Wally now, he extended the pen.

From across the room, his voice rose in bass not pitch.

- A pretension, Schreibermachen, is nought but an unwarranted affectation -- and as all which we affect becomes, in its course, warranted... we too in our course shall get what we deserve.

You did not have the information necessary to deduce if the pen was of a make advanced enough to boost the harmonics of the surrounding space, or if the two of them were fucking with each other.

Lux ran in.

Glimpsing a coffee sitting on the counter before the office window, he swatted it with a great harried pallor across the floor, where it shattered out of its porcelain into the basin of a flowing riverbed.

- Broey, I am like… Bro of course I'm up for it. Bro, of course I'm up for the occasion. Bro, I am the occurrence -- where I go, that which occurs occurs as it must occur. Bro, there ain't no other way about it.

They both looked at him -- They didn't look at each other.

Interesting.

-–.--

(Why is that interesting? Bro Is he fuckin with me bro? What the hell's going on?

Wally bro holy fuck... Why is it that it's always alright when you grab my ass?

Bro why are you only one I let get away with this shit?)

33 O ) I ( O EE

Joey looked to him.

The morning light shone bright and clear.

- Where do you go, Laika? The hours conspire to keep me from you.

- I am right besides you as always, Cpt. Schreibermachen.

- In all this time, I haven't heard a peep from you.

- If you only call, you will find you have no need.

- To provide some proof of your claim, Laik -- if you see me, otherwise indisposed, in the nature of deep work -- and I do not hear or see you -- please tap me on the shoulder. You are more privy to my designs than most. I suspect your intercession may above all prove helpful. You know your worth, Laika ;-- in part because you are of exceeding worth to me. My worth, Laika ;-- while evident to you is not always evident to me ;-- for we are set along different vantage points and you, my brother and comrade, Cpt. Laika Psychorrhax, are the only watchmen I set.

Laika nodded. He fell to one knee. Head bowed, hand to his heart.

The production as dry as merlot.

- I will make it my sacred duty, sir -- to bother you while you write.

Cpt. Schreibermachen ruffled his hair, sending his beret to the floor.

Laika laughed.

- That will be all, Psychorrhax. For the time being, comport yourself to the east wing -- I would like to see if your senses have a protracted spatial component, or if distance is as much an illusion as time.

. o .

- It is late in the day already, Psychorrhax.

- Early in the evening still, Cpt. Schreibermachen.

- My powers are returning to me -- after the imbroglio at the gala night, I feel blooms of oxygen exploding through my veins. The bubbly alight in my arteries, my heart embodies the purity of a hydrogen bomb!

- For you, I split the waters.

- On those muddy banks of the sea-floor, Laika -- I will take you. With a wall of light, I will take you first low, then high.

- Lumine the deep, as you return the deep to the air.

- Polish my icon, as I raise high the sands -- to glass.

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